The turning wheel of time stirs up the dust of disarray,
that settles in the crumbling cauldron of disordered life.
In the maiming moments of disdained dejection,
truth tumbles in the mélange of disorienting chaos.
Under the scorching blaze of the envy flame,
the desiccated soul suffers parched and forsaken,
searches for the niche of sanguinity in self-belief
to get the self-seeking shade of hope in frustration.
The sapling of irresistible longing rooted deep in desire,
nurtured in the receptive core of the longing heart,
blossoms the flower of passionate hedonism,
luring the being with the illusion of impulsive urge.
In the disorderly squall of divesting dismay,
the mangled mind is disheveled to a dishabille state,
tries to snap the chords of captivating greed,
the psychic cascade of unconcern carries them away.
Chasing the mirage across the dunes of desolation,
the hope of taking life to the oasis disappears deluded.
As the beleaguering storm of disenchantment blows,
consciousness takes the correction course to undo despair.
My muse is like a carnival,
a celebration of kaleidoscope colors,
a dazzling display of light and sound.
Circling slowly until I feel dizzy.
Will I crumple and fall?
A house of mirrors
with peculiar shapes and sizes
evoking flustered feelings
and contorting my cognitive map.
Which avenue shall I follow?
A tunnel of love where my mind
lingers on the ways emotion
plays with my heart, at first
soothing, then exasperating.
Liberating or beleaguering?
A house of horrors where
I live out my darkest thoughts
and flex my remarkable resilience
to the beckoning of the dark side.
Can I be truly free?
The roller coaster is exhilarating
and sets my mind free again
the ups and downs of life and living
and the fear of death
Is that so wrong?
Titillating tilt-a-whirl,
multitudinous perspectives
twirling one side then another
seeing with curious fly eyes.
Am I, or my muse, to blame?
HUSH, CAN YOU HEAR THE DARK BARK?
I dream of darkness
i dream within darkness
my dreams ARE darkness
black born and begotten by beleaguering and backward visions
visions which reverse reality with retrograde remorsefulness
and fretfully frightful forcefulness
vision of coal colored clouds floating amidst an infallable fog
as I attempt to fight my way out of that fog with fists flailing in failure
while the slaying of sunshine makes misery its mark
my dreams are stark
my dreams are dark
i am darkness
(c) 2011....~free cee!~
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